


Kind Words

by rosefox



Category: Chronicles of Prydain - Lloyd Alexander
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-03
Updated: 2005-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-25 07:40:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1639406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosefox/pseuds/rosefox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwydion/Adaon and implied Gwydion/Taran, but completely G-rated. A vignette between chapters 2 and 3 of "The Black Cauldron".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kind Words

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Cathybites

 

 

Colwyn son of Cledwyn, who had been King Math's master of hunt for longer than anyone could remember, took the business of caring for one's steed extremely seriously; and as Gwydion and Adaon had both received their early training in horsemanship from him, neither was surprised to see the other in the stables as the chill autumn darkness began to fall. Gwydion had brought an apple, and he sliced it into even wedges with his boot-knife. He fed Melyngar as Adaon fed Lluagar, their motions calm and unhurried.

At last, he said quietly, "I am glad to see you here."

Adaon offered the last wedge of apple to Lluagar, who delicately lipped it out of his palm. "I am glad to be here," he replied, "or as glad as I can be when faced with a venture such as this."

"How is Arianllyn?" asked Gwydion, his voice slightly muffled as he bent to check the straps on his saddlebags.

Adaon smiled. "She shines like her namesake," he said softly, "the silver lake in the morning sun. She gladdens my heart."

Gwydion looked up at last, and gray eyes met green for a long moment. The prince's face was drawn and sorrowful, as he had let no other of his companions see him. "I would not have asked you to leave her side," he began, but Adaon's smile stopped him. It was the same smile he remembered from their boyhood, open and joyous, and his heart seemed to clench within his chest.

"I chose to answer your call," Adaon said gently. "My dreams set my foot upon this path; and my beloved would no sooner gainsay them than I."

"And what do your dreams show you?" Gwydion asked, his voice grave. "You know I do not ask lightly, but many lives will be risked on this quest, and I would do all I can to spare those who follow me."

Adaon's gaze became distant. "I saw a snowy plain," he said, "where tracks of horses crossed and crossed again, seemingly without direction. As I watched, the snow began to melt, uncovering dark earth. In some places, grass began to grow, but others lay fallow, and still others were strewn with gold or marked with headstones. The horses had trampled all unheeding, their riders not knowing that what they sought was beneath their feet. Soon snow fell again and everything was once more hidden beneath it.

"Then I was in a dark wood," Adaon went on, "and there was a host of riders behind me. I could not turn and see their faces, but I felt that there were both friends and foes riding silently side by side. To my right and left were men in Huntsman's garb, but they made no move to attack me and in some way I knew we were companions. The three of us led the riders out of the wood and into the sunlight, and all rejoiced. But as I left the darkness, I saw that many remained behind: you, and Arianllyn, and others that I did not know then but now recognize as Taran of Caer Dallben and Princess Eilonwy. And as we rode past, you wept. No," he added, seeing the pain on Gwydion's face, "do not think to send me back and keep me from this fate. If I am the one to lead that host, then I must ride." Adaon's voice was kind and firm, and Gwydion knew there would be no gainsaying it. He closed his eyes briefly and then set his grief aside with the practiced ease of one who has seen many battles, knowing that now was not the time to mourn.

"What do you think of Taran?" he asked after a moment.

"Ah, Gwydion, my old friend," Adaon said with deep affection. "When before has it taken you three questions to reach the one you meant to ask? I think he is strong, and headstrong; loyal to a fault, but there are graver faults; and he has not enough words for himself or the world around him, but he will learn them in time. I can already see the mark of your association upon him, and he is the better for it, as are you."

Gwydion smiled, and if the compliment brought color to his cheeks, it could not have been seen in the horse-scented dimness. "Your words are as kind as ever," he said.

"Speaking the truth is no reason to be unkind," Adaon said with a smile. "And to spare you the effort of yet a fourth question: yes, I see the crown upon his heart, as I saw all those years ago, and I know now that he is the one who will take you from me, and me from you."

"I had not had time to think of it until yesterday," Gwydion said diffidently, "but he was running about as boys do when they have forgotten for the moment that they think they are men, and the princess was watching him from the doorway, and it seemed I saw him through her eyes. All of a sudden he appeared taller and stronger, more bold and more noble, and I realized that to her he was just as much a prince as I, and indeed, the longer I looked, the more princely he seemed to me, and the more I seemed to yearn after him even as did she. Then I recalled your dream of the man with the crowned heart, and wondered. But," he added with sudden fierceness, "he has not taken me from you yet!"

"Nor has he taken me from you," Adaon said gently, "which I think will happen first; and the day he does, it will be at your bidding. But that day is a while off, and in the meantime, I believe we would do best to enjoy Dallben's hospitality before we set off for another few weeks of sleeping in our cloaks."

"Sometimes," Gwydion murmured, "I wonder why I am the war-leader and you are not, with all your wisdom."

Adaon laughed, a merry sound that rang off the rafters and earned him a snort from Lluagar. "The same reason that friend Fflewddur wonders why he is the bard and I am not! The wiser I get, the less I long for any other's place and the more contented I am with my own. But come, old friend," he said, clasping Gwydion's hand with great affection, "let us go find that little attic room that Dallben is always so thoughtful about setting aside for you, which will be a good deal warmer than this stable, and we will see about setting your heart at ease, for I have done enough to pain you tonight and would like to offer what soothing I can."

"More kind words," Gwydion said softly, but his hand stayed firm in Adaon's, and together they braced against the wind and made their way back to the house.

 


End file.
